A Latticework of Tears

                   I stood beside my window today,
               the one through where I first saw you,
           standing beneath the old wooden archway
                       with the white latticework,
                        a delicate filigree of pine
                       carved on its broad posts.
                     You were young and strong,
            with skin browned by the eastern sun
                and eyes that promised mischief,
                  a smile that dared any and all,
                    and lightly calloused hands,
                   but a heart that was more so,
             while I was shyness and reluctance
                and ultimately  inconsequence.

          I stood there until the light turned grey,
until the raindrops came and curtained the window
                   with a latticework of tears,
         a delicate filigree of remembered pain.
         How careless of me to have left it open.